“I will be here forever,” were the words I saw this morning. On the couch, the bed and on the toilet walls. It was boldly written with a red color. Something was weird about it. All the writings were dripping blood. I was taken aback by what I saw. My hands were visibly shaking.
Everywhere was quiet. The early hours of that morning coupled with the rain sent chills down to my body. I ran back to my room, stood there, Then there was a slight movement. It was slow and gentle. Like a child walking.
I backed into the wall. The tiny voice came. Spoke with a shaky tune. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t fathom where I have heard it from or the owner of the voice. “I told you I would always be here. Have you forgotten?”
Then I remembered. That night. The scenario. Everything rushed back to me like a strong wave. The memory of that day hit me straight in the head.
Before she died, she made a promise to visit. I didn’t know she would. When still alive, she joked a lot. I didn’t take her serious. That was ten years ago. It took her this long to visit. My precious sister. Then she said:
“When next I visit, we are leaving together. I won’t stay alone there. We will be together. Forever. Ever. And ever.”
No. Did I hear her right? Or is she joking again? I’m not ready to leave this world.